Samael looked around from the window. “Don’t get comfortable,” he replied, ignoring the remark. “You have a job to do. Things are moving faster than we expected. Lucifer and the One are gone.”
Mittron sat up straighter. “What? When? I heard about no battle.”
“A short time ago, and there was no battle to hear about. Verchiel invited Lucifer to Heaven, he went, and now he and the One are gone. End of story. Except for this mess.” Samael stared out again, feathers rustling irritably. He crossed his arms and scowled. “Already the Fallen are dividing, and I’m still not a hundred percent certain we have Seth on board. I need that backup from Limbo. How long to open it?”
Mittron tried to wrap his mind around the sudden turn of events. “There are no guards, so once you get me there, a few minutes at most. But remember the risk, Samael. Some of the Fallen have been in there for thousands of years. They’ll be beyond reason. Beyond your control. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“If we’re to hold on to Hell long enough to put Seth in place?” Samael’s expression turned grim. “Yes.”
Chapter 80
Alex’s heart had leapt at the sight of the winged figure looming in the doorway. An Archangel, fully armored, sword at his side, controlled wrath rolling off him in waves. Aramael. But as Seth’s face morphed into a mask of pure hatred, hope evaporated. She stepped forward, intending to put herself between them, but an invisible force knocked her from her feet before she could. She landed on the floor with a grunt of pain and surprise.
Aramael’s scowl deepened. His expression granite-hard, he stalked across the room, shoving aside overturned chairs, ignoring the scattered papers beneath his feet.
“Leave her be, Appointed. You’re done here.”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seth snarled. “Do you really think I’ll just walk away and leave her to you? Do I strike you as that stupid?”
“That’s not what this is about. I can no more have her than you can. I told you that.”
“You lied!”
A tiny blue spark snapped beside Alex’s cheek. She cringed and, scrambling to her feet, flicked a panicked gaze over the room. She’d seen sparks like that only once before, wielded by Lucifer in a Vancouver alley. But there was no sign of the Light-bearer now. There was only Aramael, her—and Seth.
Another spark ignited beside her face. She inhaled sharply.
Seth?
“You lied,” Seth repeated. “I have had her, Archangel. I’ve held her, and loved her, and possessed her, and I am not giving her up. Not to you, and not to the mortals. She belongs to me.”
Raw pain flashed in Aramael’s eyes at the words, but his voice held steady. “She belongs to no one but herself.”
Seth stared at Aramael, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Then, after a long moment, he turned to Alex, his eyes tired. Sad. Lost. “You truly don’t want to be with me?”
She hesitated, still loath to hurt him. Still hoping she could somehow make him understand. Uncurling her fingers, she spread her hands wide. Made her voice gentle. “It’s not that—”
“Answer me!” he snarled.
She jumped. Then she straightened her shoulders. He was right. She’d tried explaining, tried to ease this, but no matter how she phrased it, Seth would never see it as anything more—or less—than outright rejection. He just had to accept it.
“No,” she said. “No, Seth, I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry.”
The blue crackles intensified, filling the air around him. “So am I,” he said. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”
Seth spread his hands wide in the gesture his own father had once turned against him. Alarm raced over Alex’s skin, standing every hair on end. But before she could react, strong arms wrapped around her and held her tight against a broad, muscled chest. She barely had time to inhale the familiar warmth of Aramael before massive wings folded around both of them—and then chaos erupted.
From every direction, every angle, objects bombarded them. Desks, chairs, glass from windows imploding into the room, ceiling tiles, light fixtures. The very air itself turned solid, slamming into them with a force that made Aramael stagger and the cocoon of his wings open slightly. Alex looked up into his eyes and quailed at the grimness she saw there. It wasn’t just her; he hadn’t expected this force, either. Hadn’t expected Seth to be this strong.
A shard of glass flew between the gap in his feathers, slicing open his cheek. The wound sealed itself almost instantly, but not before crimson spattered onto her own cheek and pain winced across his features. Behind him, a support post ripped out of its mooring and spun toward them. She closed her eyes as it thudded against the arch of Aramael’s wing. The floor bucked beneath her feet. .
Dear God in Heaven, what had she loosed on the world?
“Enough,” Aramael growled.
Her eyes shot open as he put her away from him, his hands solid and reassuring in their grip on her arms. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. “My wings will protect you.”
She clutched at him when he tried to let go. “What are you going to do?”
His gray eyes hardened with resolve. “What I should never have let you talk me out of in Vancouver,” he said. “I’m putting an end to this. Now.”
She wished she could object. Wished Seth had given her some reason—any reason, however small—to do so. But whatever Seth might have been, whatever he could have chosen to be, that chance had long since passed.
“He’s not your responsibility,” the One’s voice whispered in her memory. Her throat tight with fear, regret, and a multitude of other emotions it would take a lifetime to identify, Alex let go her hold on Aramael’s sleeve.
Metal hissed against hardened leather as he drew the sword from its scabbard. It glinted dully in the light coming from the broken windows, plain, unadorned, built for one purpose and one purpose only. His wings lifting clear of Alex, he turned.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
Chapter 81
With his wings unfurled to their fullest to protect the woman sheltering behind them, Aramael raised his sword to deflect a jagged piece of metal aimed at his head. “By all that is holy, Seth Benjamin, enough!” he shouted.
Nostrils flaring and chest heaving, the Appointed hesitated. Then, returning Aramael’s glare, he let his arms drop to his sides. The power that had pressed in on Aramael subsided to a low, sinister pulse.
“You cannot stand against me forever, Archangel,” Seth panted, sweat trickling down his forehead. “I’m not one of you. I’m more, remember?”
“Mika’el stood against your father,” Aramael reminded him grimly. “And I will stand against you.”
“Mika’el had five others of your kind with him. You have a Naphil.” Seth spat the word.
“Fine. If you think you can take me, let’s not waste time.” Shifting his grip on his sword, Aramael spread his feet apart and settled them into the remains of the thin carpet. “Take your best shot.”
Seth narrowed his eyes. Shook his head. “You really do care for her, don’t you? You can’t help but try to save her. It’s a compulsion for you.”
“And it always will be.”
“Then save her from this.”
An ominous rumble sounded behind Aramael, followed by the screech of metal tearing under stress. Alex gasped. Whirling, Aramael lifted his wings up and over her just in time to shield her from the collapse of a section of the floor above them. Concrete chunks showered down, battering outspread feathers hardened against attack. Twisted steel beams followed, and then a desk and—